Before Dawn
by john4096
Summary: A sort of epilogue of my own to Firewing, with a bit of foreshadowing to a possible sequel.


Before Dawn

Griffin didn't even have time to open his mouth before he found himself wrapped up in his mother's wings, squeezing the breath out of him. For a moment, he struggled, his mind still racing with all that had happened, his mouth rushing to form the words that always come so easily to him. He had so much to say, so much to tell her; but he soon found himself surrendering to his mother's soft fur and comforting warmth. He didn't know how long he had been in the Underworld, but being here with his mother now, he felt like he had be gone for months.

Eventually, his mother pulled back, her eyes swelling with tears as she looked at him sternly: "Griffin, promise me you'll never do something stupid like that again!"

"I promise," he said, nuzzling his head against her side, unable to feel any shame or guilt at the moment. She nuzzled him back, smiling down at him.

"Please, don't ever die again either."

He couldn't help but grin back in spite of himself. "I won't."

Everything was fine now. He was safe, Luna was back, his mother's wings had healed and were now holding him tightly…_So why then_, Griffin thought, _does something feel out of place?_

"Honestly, Griffin," Marina joked, nudging him a little. "At this rate you're going to turn into your father."

His father! How could he have forgotten? His stomach clenched as the memory came rushing back: his father's body plummeting to the earth, its broken form lying crumpled on the ground. He began to feel sick.

"Where is Shade, anyway?" his mother asked curiously, looking around. "He came back with you, didn't he? Or did he find some other evil plot to overturn on your way back?"

She was grinning over at him, joking with him, and Griffin felt all of the warmth leave his body at her optimistic expression. His heart turned to ice, his eyes burning guiltily; he was suddenly sweating all over. He didn't deserve to be hugged and nuzzled and loved like this.

He pushed himself away from his mother slightly, dropping his gaze to his claws. He would have to tell her; he couldn't keep it to himself.

"What's the matter Griffin?" Marina asked concernedly, frowning slightly.

How could he possibly answer that question? After what he had done to Luna, the other bats were just starting to forgive him—he was just starting to forgive himself! Was he supposed to tell his mother that it was also his fault that the greatest hero of their time was now dead? How would she handle the news that her mate was gone forever? He looked over at her and immediately regretted it, for the look she wore was no longer happy or concerned: it was angry.

"I knew it!" she yelled unevenly. "I knew he'd get himself killed if I didn't go with him!"

"No, mom!" Griffin wanted to correct her, though he didn't know why. Somehow, it seemed important that she know. "It was because of me. I—"

"This is all my fault," she said with an air of self-loathing, clearly not listening to him. "I should've gone with him! I should've told him not to go!"

"No!" Griffin couldn't understand why she was blaming herself. She hadn't set Luna on fire; she hadn't dug herself into the Underworld. It made him uncomfortable to see his mother this way. She had never broken down like this before.

"It's not your fault, mom!" he persisted. "It was mine! None of this would've happened if I hadn't been so stupid and stolen the fire. I—"

To his surprise, he found himself being pulled into Marina's embrace for a second time. Again, he found his worries melt away as she hugged him—there was an odd serenity in her hold.

"Shh," she whispered calmingly. "Tell me what happened, Griffin."

So Griffin launched into the whole story unenthusiastically. It seemed foolish to think that, only a few hours ago, he had been excited to return home and tell his courageous story—to impress the other newborns, to earn his place in the echo chamber. Now that the time had come, the act gave him no pleasure.

When he finished, they simply hung from their roost for a while, neither of them ready to say anything. His mother wasn't crying, but she seemed to be shaking slightly, and he could feel her wing quivering around him. It was the same way he remembered Roma shaking when she had found Luna's scarred body, lying limp on the ground. Her dry eyes were just as well though, for Griffin knew he was probably crying enough for both of them. Eventually, Marina let out a long sigh.

"You can't blame yourself, Griffin," she reassured him.

"But it was all my fault," he repeated, though with less conviction.

"I know it must be hard for you—you hardly knew him." She stroked his head gently as she spoke, and to Griffin's surprise, she let out a short laugh: "It was bound to happen eventually. Shade was always making bad decisions, even when he was your age."

Griffin didn't say anything, too distracted by his conflicting emotions—comfort from his mother's caress, shame from the guilty thoughts whirling in his head…and a strange desire to joke and laugh with his mother, in spite of the despair that gripped at his heart.

"I mean," she continued smiling over at him weakly, "I can't count the number of times your father almost got the two of us killed."

He knew she was trying to be strong for him and cheer him up, so Griffin laughed slightly, sniffing away at his tears. She hugged him tightly once more, before pulling away and looking at him critically.

"You'd better go eat something," she said. "You must be starving after everything you've been through, and you need to get yourself ready for the migration."

The migration. It seemed impossible to Griffin that something as routine as the annual trip to Hibernaculum could still go on when Shade had been killed. His father was probably the most important bat that had ever lived; didn't that mean something? Then he realized that no one else knew what had happened yet. _How lucky of them_, Griffin thought enviously.

"They'll want to know too, won't they?" he asked his mother ambiguously.

She sighed heavily. "I guess so. But I don't want you worrying about that," she told him firmly. "I'll take care of it."

Griffin looked at her sadly, "You know I always worry."

"I know." She smiled, "Now go eat something. Maybe take Luna with you."

He had to admit: the idea of hunting with Luna was much more appealing than heading out by himself. He nuzzled his mother one last time before soaring up through the familiar, winding trunk of Tree Haven. He only now realized how much he had missed its comforting smell and gentle warmth, and he felt a small pang of sympathy for his father, who would never fly through its cavernous hollows again.

With some trepidation, he finally set down at the edge of Luna's roost. He could see her hanging further along the perch, deep inside one of the trees thicker branches, her mother grooming her and making a fuss. As he roosted near her, Roma looked around to see who had landed, and he felt his chest constrict fearfully. Even though he had brought Luna back to her, he couldn't help wondering if Roma was still angry with him. _Why shouldn't she be_, he thought, _after everything I've put her through_?

Roma began to make her way over to him, still hanging at the very edge of the roost, her face stony. As he always did, Griffin began to run scenarios through his head: Would she yell at him? Would she hit him? Would she drag him outside by her claws and carry him across the forest, flying until she found a Human fire to drop him in? Just as his fear was beginning to get the better of him, she lunged towards him. He was caught off guard, unable to move as she grabbed hold of him—

And hugged him. She pressed her face against his head, throwing her wings around him, and he was so surprised that he hugged back. She was shaking slightly, and soon his fur was wet with her tears as she pulled back, looking at him with sparkling eyes.

"Oh, Griffin," she said, barely above a whisper. "Luna told me everything. Please don't think that I hate you."

Griffin wasn't sure what to say. To be honest, he _did_ think that she hated him. "You _don't_ hate me?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"No! No, of course not! I know what's it's like to be young, Griffin," she said, finally pulling away from him. "And it must have been hard for you, growing up with so many stories about your parents. I was devastated when I lost Luna, but I never meant for you to go tunneling into the Underworld. Your poor mother…"

"Well, I still feel kinda bad about everything—" Griffin began.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic, you two!" Luna called out cheerily, joining them.

"Oh, Luna," Roma sighed, sniffing a little. "Thanks for bringing her back, Griffin."

He looked over at Luna awkwardly, not quite sure how to respond. Roma didn't seem to be expecting a response, though, and she began looking over the two newborns with the same critical eye his own mother had used.

"You know, you two could really stand to eat something," she said. "You must be starved from all that excitement."

"We're fine," Luna said. "Really, mom."

"Don't be ridiculous," Roma insisted. "You two need to fatten up a bit before we head out for Hibernaculum. It's only a few days away, you know. Come on! Off you go!"

She gave Luna and him a gentle nudge and they took off together, circling around the trunk.

"Now be careful!" she called out very seriously.

"I'm always careful!" Luna called out indignantly as they made for the knothole that would take them outside. "It's you who could stand to be a little more careful," Luna joked to Griffin under her breath.

"Please don't talk about it," Griffin pleaded.

"About what?" Luna said innocently. "I mean: it's no secret that you have a bad habit of engaging in dangerous activities."

"Ha ha." Griffin nudged her with his wingtip, laughing appreciatively as they made their way into the night air. Luna always managed to make things better somehow.

It was already beginning to brighten outside as dawn approached, but compared to cannibal bats and land that melted away into oceans, Griffin felt fairly calm towards something so tame as flying in the daylight. Without a moment's hesitation, he eagerly trimmed his wings and made for the sugar maple he had always liked so much.

Soaring through the air, he looked over at Luna, flying along beside him, and he felt his despair over his father lift away a little. It was encouraging, just to be able to see her there—her wings smooth and unburned, no longer struggling to keep up. It was almost as if the whole ordeal had never really happened.

* * *

><p>Marina ascended the tall trunk of Tree Haven in slow, gentle spirals. She wasn't exactly eager to get to her destination, and couldn't find much reason to hurry. As she rose, her eyes flitted amongst the other mothers, tending to their newborns or trying to get some sleep while their children were out hunting. She wondered vaguely if anyone would care much that Shade was gone. She knew that very few of them had ever really talked to him when he was younger—or so he had told her.<p>

As much as she hated to admit it, she didn't really feel any different now. She had expected to be a little more devastated by the news than she had been. _I mean: Shade was the first bat that ever liked me for who I am_, she thought, _Shouldn't I feel sad that's he's gone?_

She kept telling herself that she was just being strong for Griffin, but she knew that it was no simple act. _Maybe it's because I've already spent so much time worrying about it_, she thought. _Now that it's happened, it seems like it's always been this way_.

"Is there something you wanted, Marina?"

Ariel's voice broke her out of her reverie, and she realized with a jolt that she had already reached the elder's roost. With a hasty flip, she settled down awkwardly beside Shade's mother and tried to get her thoughts together.

"I've been hearing quite the stories," Ariel said in the meantime, smiling. "I'm glad Griffin and Luna managed to make it back together."

Marina just nodded silently, watching the other bats fly around below. "Where are all the other elders?" she asked distractedly.

"They've gone to add our most recent story to the Echo Chamber. This little adventure certainly changes a lot about what we used to believe of the Underworld."

Marina nodded again, and a patient sort of silence stretched on for a while, as though Ariel were waiting for her to say something. She took a deep breath, readying herself.

"Shade's dead."

Ariel's smile faded, her age suddenly showing more prominently in her face as it saddened. "I figured as much."

Marina tore her gaze from the lower reaches of the tree and stared at Shade's mother in disbelief. "You knew?"

"It was bound to happen," Ariel sighed, with another flicker of a smile. "I think we both knew when Luna came back that he wouldn't be returning."

Marina nodded, remembering the distant premonition she had felt when Luna first came through the knothole with Griffin. She had known that something had to be wrong.

"And you knew I would know," Ariel said.

Marina thought her head would fall off from all of the nodding she was doing. "Yes. I knew."

"So then, what is the real reason you're here?"

It was Marina's turn to sigh. "I guess I just figured that I'd feel different, somehow. I mean: shouldn't I be sad?"

Ariel's eyes were watering slightly, and Marina just felt worse. _How would Shade feel_, she wondered,_ If he saw me now, dry-eyed and indifferent?_

"It's not your fault, Marina," she explained. "It was the same problem you had with Shade when we were back at the Human building: you've hardened yourself. After your colony banished you, left you behind, you sort of developed a shield around yourself—a barrier against unhappiness. This is the cost of living alone on the island for so many months. In time, it'll all catch up with you, and it will be for the better. Eventually, you'll feel it; and once you come to accept it, you'll be able to move on."

"I should've gone with him," she said inwardly after a short pause, possibly repeating herself for the hundredth time.

"No," Ariel said firmly. "You need to be here with Griffin, now."

Marina nodded again, "I know."

* * *

><p>Griffin almost cried again when he saw the sugar maple, rising out of the ground ahead of them. It was just as he had remembered it: one small constant in his life. Even from this distance, he could hear the caterpillars crawling along its branches, chewing at its leaves. How good it would be to finally fill his mouth with something real.<p>

"Caterpillars?" Luna asked incredulously. "Again?"

"I like caterpillars," Griffin said contentedly.

Luna scowled. "I thought that our big escapade would've made you a little more adventurous."

"Yeah? What exactly did you have in mind?" Griffin asked apprehensively. No doubt she would find a way to get themselves killed again.

"Don't look at me like that!" Luna demanded. "It's not anything dangerous. I just thought we could make things interesting—have a hunting competition. How about the first one to catch a Tiger Moth?"

Griffin hesitated. "I dunno…"

"Come on, Griff," she said with a wry smile. "What's the worst that could happen?"

He found himself grinning back grudgingly. "Knowing you, we'll probably end up burning down the whole forest."

She chuckled good-naturedly before looking over at him expectantly. Clearly, she was very serious about this, and she still wanted an answer. A strange sensation coursed through Griffin's body as he looked into her eyes, and he found his mouth moving against his better judgement.

"Alright," he said. "You're on!"

Luna looked almost as surprised as he felt as he pulled away and darted off into the woods. Soaring through the trees, it didn't take long before doubts started clawing again at the back of his mind, and he couldn't understand what had come over him; but it was too late to back down now. He was going to do his best to win.

Using his echoes to guide him, Griffin weaved his way through the tight branches of the forest, shocked with how close he was allowing himself to get. Before, he had always preferred to stay above branches, where there was no risk of hitting anything; but now he found himself sailing through the trees, narrowly dodging their tough limbs.

All the while, he kept on the lookout for the graceful glide of those illusive Tiger Moths. Mosquitoes, beetles, gnats, and all sorts of other bugs churned their way through the air, but not a single moth was among them.

Then, a sudden flash of wings caught in his echo vision. He had it now!

Griffin banked sharply and sped up, drawing up behind the thing. He watched it closely, flying leisurely in his mind's eye as he closed the gap between them. The whole endeavour seemed far too easy as he homed in and opened his mouth to snatch it up; but then he faltered, watching in awe as the moth split into a fan of dozens of other Tiger Moths. The eerie sight brought his memories tumbling back to the Underworld before he shook himself back to his senses.

He forced himself to fold back his ears and follow the moth with his eyes only, which could not be fooled by sound. In the back of his mind, he could tell that he had grown more accustomed to his body since the last time he had hunted. His manoeuvres were no longer slow and clumsy—his turns were sharp, his dives quick, and it was with a bit of a show that he finally flicked the Tiger Moth into his mouth with his claw and tail, savouring the taste as he chewed. It really was much better than the caterpillars, he had to admit.

With a great sense of accomplishment, he excitedly trimmed his wings once more, making his way back to the sugar maple where Luna was already waiting for him. He wondered how long ago she had caught hers, but his defeat did nothing to dampen his satisfaction.

"Bad luck, tonight," she said as he came to roost beside her. "Couldn't find anything."

"You mean you didn't catch one?" Griffin asked incredulously.

"No," she said huffily. "Did you?"

Griffin felt his face tighten into a wide grin.

"You did!" she practically screamed. "I don't believe this. I lost to the glowing wonder."

"Hey, it was your idea!" Griffin defended himself. "Besides, neither of us glows anymore."

"I know," Luna conceded with a sigh. "Sorry for saying it, but I really didn't expect to lose that one, Griff."

"That makes two of us," he admitted with a smile.

"Well," she said, brightening up again, "There's always the owl game!"

He couldn't tell whether or not she was joking, but the mischievous glint in her eyes made it impossible for Griffin not to laugh.

* * *

><p>A year had passed since the whole Underworld incident, and Griffin had been relieved to find his first migration to be a lot less eventful than his father's. Of course, Luna had been slightly disappointed (and she had never missed an opportunity to voice that disappointment), but they had all gotten to Hibernaculum and back in one piece.<p>

Not that Griffin still didn't have anything to worry about: his mother had started talking to him about mating season, and with each word that reached his ears he had felt panic rising inside him. It seemed awfully soon to be making such a big decision: what if he made the wrong one?

All of this was running through his head again as went out hunting alone one night. He had grown somewhat in the past year—his muscles finally catching up to his bones—but he still didn't feel that he was much to look at. In fact, when his bright streaks of fur glinted in the moonlight, he felt positively ridiculous; but at least he could hunt well now, and had caught many Tiger Months in the time since Luna had challenged him to a competition so long ago.

Luna had grown too. It was impossible for him to deny, though he couldn't consciously register exactly how she looked. It made him feel too uncomfortable to scrutinize her appearance like that. Still, he knew she was beautiful. He didn't doubt it, and countless males had already asked her to be their mate.

No one had asked him yet.

Granted, he was glad in a way that no one had approached him, because he honestly had no clue what to say. He still didn't know very many of the other bats in his colony, despite all the attention from his big adventure; and he was still in a raging debate with himself over whether or not he should ask Luna.

He had had a very awkward conversation with her a while ago. It hadn't been long: she had asked him how he was coping with everything, with his father, and they reminisced a little about their childhood; but Griffin had been worried the whole time. Worried that he would say the wrong thing, or look at her the wrong way. His naturally anxious mind had jumped into action all too eagerly: How far should he roost from her without seeming impolite, but also without being too close? Should he fold his left wing over his right, or the other way around? Was he staring at her too much, or would she think that he wasn't interested in what she was saying if he looked away too often?

Unable to answer any of these questions, Griffin had simply tried to avoid her to some extent; but now, it seemed that he couldn't put it off any longer. If he didn't do something soon, he knew Luna would choose someone, and he would never know how she felt about him. He couldn't say he fancied his odds—she had turned down more impressive bats than himself—but he _had_ to know, one way or another.

* * *

><p>"Mom," he asked, as she groomed his fur back inside Tree Haven. "I was thinking about this whole mating thing…"<p>

"That's good," she encouraged him. "Do you know who you want to ask?"

"Well…" he felt his face burn slightly in embarrassment. "I figured that—you know—Luna and I are good friends, and—I mean, you and dad were good friends—"

His mother let out a gentle laugh and nudged him slightly. "Let me guess: you're afraid of asking her?"

"Well…"

Marina shook her head. "You're more like your father than you realize, Griffin, that's for sure."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" He wasn't anything like his father.

She looked him straight in the eye, smiling: "He was scared of asking too."

"He was?" Griffin asked dubiously. Griffin couldn't see how that was possible. His father had battled giant, cannibal bats! He had saved the sun! He had thrown himself in the Underworld! Surely he wasn't afraid of something so trivial as finding a mate…

"He was," Marina maintained. "I think everyone's a little scared when the time comes."

"Even you?" Griffin asked.

"Yes, even me." She stroked his head and sighed, "I was the only Brightwing in the colony. I was worried that no one else would take me if Shade wouldn't—"

"But why wouldn't he want you?"

She laughed. "I know, I couldn't think of a reason either. But I was scared all the same." She put her claws on his shoulders. "There's no need for you to worry though, Griffin. Luna would be lucky to have you—after all, how many bats can say they've dragged their friends out of the Underworld alive?"

Griffin chuckled appreciatively, but still didn't feel much better. He hesitated for a moment, still thinking things through.

"How'd dad finally get up the courage to ask you?" he wondered out loud.

At this, his mother laughed earnestly, leaving Griffin confused.

"He didn't," she told him, gasping slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"He never got up the courage to ask me," she explained. "I asked him."

* * *

><p>Griffin soared across the treetops, looking for Luna. He still didn't feel confident exactly, but his mother's story had strengthened his resolve. He wasn't going to wait for Luna to ask him—he was going to be brave for once in his life.<p>

When he finally found her, roosting on a branch that hung over the rushing stream, the voice in his head started talking to him again: What if she's already chosen somebody? What if she says no? Would she still want to be friends? Will she just laugh and never speak to me again? After all, I did set her on fire…

He swallowed back his fears and let down on the branch as gracefully as he could, careful not to startle her. It was one of those rare moments when Luna was by herself, and Griffin found himself thanking Nocturna for his luck.

"Hi Luna," he called out as he swung beneath the branch.

"Hey, Griff."

The two bats went quiet and Griffin suddenly found himself desperately searching for something to say. The silence began to stretch on thickly, and he grasped at the first thing that entered his mind: "So…this whole mating thing's pretty crazy, isn't it?" He immediately felt dumb for asking something so obvious. He was probably the least subtle bat in existence.

"Yeah, I guess it can be," Luna agreed unconvincingly. "But isn't it a little exciting? Starting a family and everything?"

"I guess so," Griffin said uncomfortably.

Luna laughed heartily. "Look who I'm talking to. You must be dead scared of having a kid!"

"Can't argue with you there," he admitted.

They laughed together a little, and it made Griffin feel guilty that he had avoided her for so long, because he truly loved her company—and she seemed genuinely glad to seem him. For the first time, he finally began to notice how beautiful she was. Looking at her soft, dark fur and glistening eyes stirred something within him that was simultaneously terrifying and exciting.

"So what've you been hiding from all this time?" she asked curiously.

His heart stopped cold. He had been vainly hoping that she wouldn't notice his absence. Before he even had time to begin worrying, his quick mind sent a response tumbling out of him.

"Hiding? Knowing me, everything," he said with a grin.

This brought some more laughter, and gave him a chance to compose himself again; but after they entered another stretch of silence, Griffin could see no other route than to continue the conversation he had so inadvisably started.

"So, has anyone asked you to be their mate yet?" he asked, trying to sound casual while watching her face closely.

"Loads of bats, actually," she said thoughtfully. "Rowan, and Falstaff…and a bunch of others whose names I just can't remember," she finished with a frown.

"And what did you say?" he made himself ask.

She shrugged. "I turned them all down."

As his heart started beating again, Griffin only just realized that he had been holding his breath the whole time, and he let it out slowly in relief. He still had a chance.

"Besides," Luna continued, "I've been holding out for someone."

His heart stopped again. He was stunned by how quickly those few words had deflated him. She already had someone in mind—someone she was still waiting for. Who could it be?

"I think you know him," she said brightly, looking straight at him. "He's very funny and brave…and of course, he's definitely the most handsome bat in the colony."

Each word that came from her mouth was like a weight to him, dragging his hope down into a sea of despair. He found himself wondering vaguely who this mysterious bat could be. He certainly didn't know anyone that fit her description. As Griffin felt the confusion spread across his face, Luna broke into a wide grin.

"Oh, stop looking so worried Griff!" she laughed. "I'm talking about you!"

Griffin was dumbstruck. "Me?"

She nodded at him, and he could've sworn that his bones had been suddenly hollowed out—he felt like he could float off of the branch without a single flap of his wings. He felt his mouth moving, already forming words as it was so used to doing, getting ready to accept, when a daring plan entered his mind.

"Well…I'm flattered Luna," he began, doing his best to look serious. "But I was already planning on asking someone…"

Her smile faltered only slightly, but Griffin was pleased to distinguish her masked disappointment.

"Oh," she said neutrally. "Well, why don't you go ask her, then?"

Griffin nodded. "I think I will, actually."

With a quick smile he lit from the branch, flying up and away from the tree. He wasn't sure how his plan would work, but he had to try it. When he decided that he was far enough out of range to avoid being seen, he circled back behind the tree, setting down silently on the other side of the branch. He hesitated for a moment, surprised to see that Luna was crying slightly, and he began to have doubts about his idea. Griffin took a deep breath: it was too late to turn back now.

"Luna."

Her head whipped around behind her, staring straight at him with wide eyes. She was clearly embarrassed to be found like this: her forehead crumpled in confusion and she opened her mouth, wording something, but Griffin cut her off before she could speak.

"Will you be my mate?" he asked with a grin.

He was relieved to see her face lighten up, smiling in spite of herself. She hopped closer to him along the branch and he made to put his wing around her, but before he could do so, she slapped him across the face with her own wing.

"That was a terrible thing to do, Griffin!"

He kept smiling anyway, "I thought it'd be more exciting this way."

Luna laughed once more, now wrapping _her_ wing around _him_.

"You need to give yourself more credit, Griff," she said sweetly, nuzzling into his bright-streaked fur. "You were always exciting."

* * *

><p>Marina watched the two young bats from a distance, smiling as her son was wrapped in Luna's wings, and she felt a great weight lift from her chest. She had been worried for Griffin: she knew that it was difficult for him, being the only hybrid bat in the colony; but she also knew that Luna was a good friend, and that she would be able to see past that. Really, they were a perfect match.<p>

As the sun began to rise, Marina realized that the two newborns were roosting on the same branch where she and Shade had become mates, so long ago. All too suddenly, the memory came rushing back:

_"So you'll be my mate then?"_

_"Be your…what about Chinook?"_

_"I told him no thanks. I did the right thing, didn't I?"_

_"You're not allowed to be anybody's mate but mine."_

It was at that moment, a year after the fact, that the full impact of Shade's death hit her like a raging owl. After the deep emotional sleep to which she had succumbed, the tears finally came streaming down her face. He had been there for her when no one else had; he had saved her from a life of solitude, he had given her a home; and he had been her only friend when everybody else wanted her gone. She wondered dreadfully whether she had ever told him how much he had meant to her, and knew shamefully that she hadn't. She felt terribly cold.

* * *

><p>All the while, Shade had been watching his family live and grow. It was still strange for him, to be able to sense the thoughts and emotions of everyone around him—able to hear everything and say nothing. With a painful sensation, he longed to be with them again—just to be able to talk to Marina one more time.<p>

Meanwhile, at the back of his mind, Zotz's plan to break through to the Upper World kept nagging for attention. Goth had to be stopped; but he had no way to communicate with Marina, or his mother, or anyone. He was without a voice, and he was beginning to lull himself into a false sense of safety, vainly telling himself that the problem could wait, especially after seeing what Marina was going through.

He wished he could say something to her—something to comfort her, to tell her that she had been a good friend and an even better mate. It gave him such a strong mix of guilt and joy to see how much Marina truly did care for him. If only she knew that he was there now, watching over her. Alas, she had never been very good with echo-projections, and he doubted that even Zephyr could hear the dead.

He set himself down beside his mate, watching over Griffin and Luna, roosting together as the sun rose. He had no body, but he still hovered ambiguously over the branch all the same. Shade felt immensely proud for his son as he watched Luna wrap her wing around him. He had grown a lot: he had had his own adventures, and now he would have his own family. Moreover, Griffin had developed a better self-esteem after escaping the Underworld, and it suited him well.

_It amazes me that he ever had any doubts about Luna_, he thought._ They're so perfect for each other_. _I guess he was always too caught up in trying to be brave that he never noticed much else_.

As these thoughts swirled through his mind, Shade could swear he saw Marina's ears swivel almost imperceptibly as she spoke, smiling:

"Kind of reminds me of someone I know, huh Shade?"

* * *

><p>Goth was in high spirits as his new priest led him towards the sacrificial chamber, which housed the ancient stone tablet that could tell the future. The temple had been painstakingly reconstructed over the course of the past year, and the Vampyrum had bred quickly to fill its walls. He knew that it would be years still before they had enough soldiers to gather sacrifices, but it was a good start. In his mind, he gleefully imagined Zotz finally rising from the ground, and rewarding him for his faithful service. The though made him smirk with pleasure.<p>

Phoenix had returned as well, shortly after himself. As his god had demanded, the two had mated dutifully, and his queen was now nursing the prince that would one day grow to succeed him. Goth loathed the idea of leaving his son in her care, for he still hated the arrogant bat with a passion, but he was forced to turn his attention to more important matters.

They finally reached the chamber, and the high priest began scuttling over the smooth stone, reading the hieroglyphs, calling out moon positions and star changes. Goth grunted impatiently:

"I don't care for this nonsense," he snarled. "When will the next eclipse be?"

The priest looked up at him appraisingly, as though deciding whether or not to obey, and Goth found himself wondering why the Vampyrum priests were always so impudent. He could easily rip the pathetic bat's heart out in a second if he wanted to, but he knew he had no time to waste training a new priest. The bat eventually sighed and did as he was bidden, interpreting the celestial movements for his king. As the priest spoke, Goth found himself distractedly trying to remember his name—something with a 'K', he thought.

"The next total eclipse is not for a great many years," the priest began dramatically. "But the are many partial eclipses leading up to it." He looked up at Goth, tearing his gaze from the round stone for the first time, "If we were to gather two-hundred sacrifices instead, we might be able to raise Zotz sooner."

"Excellent," Goth said, smiling delightedly. It seemed he would live to see Zotz reign after all. His son would have the honour of growing up in a world ruled by the Vampyrum—with the Humans enslaved and the other beasts dead. It was all too good to be true.

"But, my lord," the priest continued. "There are some troubling events marked here as well."

Goth felt his lungs freeze, holding his breath. "Not Shade?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"No, my lord. Shade Silverwing is dead—"

"He's what!" Goth demanded.

"The stone says that he died more than a year ago, sacrificing himself for his son."

So the runt had killed himself that his son might live. _How pathetically noble of you, Shade_, Goth thought. It was good news though: the freak of nature Shade had spawned was hardly a threat compared to his father.

"But there are other images here," the priest pressed on. "A night sky filled with stars, each one as bright as the sun; a bat with flaming fur, making its way here with great purpose—and not alone; the collapse of a bridge, killing millions; owl talons and rat claws—even the howl of wolves; Humans too, many of them amassing; the image of Nocturna; the rising of lost comrades…but it all becomes confused here, before the nearest partial eclipse!"

Goth clenched his teeth together defiantly. Nothing—nothing!—would stop him from succeeding this time. Not the runt Shade, not his mate Marina, not his freak of a son, not the wretched Humans, not the wolves or the owls or the rats—not even Nocturna herself!

"You'd better figure it out then," Goth intoned threateningly. "The last time we failed, Zotz wasn't so kind to the high priest he had trusted." Vainly trying to contain his rage, he stormed out of the chamber to visit his son.

* * *

><p>Zephyr was deep in concentration, sifting through echoes while he pondered recent events. He had heard it all: Shade's death, Goth's resurrection, the trouble brewing in Bridge City, and a tidal wave of echoes yet to come. The future was foggy and unclear, but it had not always been so.<p>

He couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible for Shade and Marina's troubles: it had always been a burden for him to know what was to come, and yet be bound to remain silent. Indeed, he had foreseen a lot more when the two friends came flapping into his spire all those years ago than he had been willing to admit. As the distant trickles of Marina's despair reached his sensitive ears, Zephyr forced himself to remain strong. He couldn't lose his focus now.

Not all the news was bad news, however. All was not lost for Marina—or for Shade for that matter. Much would transpire in the next few days, though he could not be sure how much of it was for the better. There were successes and celebrations to be sure, but darker premonitions overshadowed these moments of brightness.

He was certain that many would die in the days approaching, but would the means justify the ends? After, they would not necessarily be lost forever; but then, this was all conjecture—ridiculously premature forecasts. Only Nocturna could say for sure.

One thing was certain, however: he would have to be honest with Marina the next time they met—or at least, more honest than he had been before. She was all that was left for the moment, and she would need to be prepared. Then there was Shade, who would again a crucial role in the things to come; and Zephyr found himself wondering whether he would succeed in this final and greatest task task. Most of all, however, Zephyr wondered about one very unique bat. One who unknowingly held the balance of the entire world in his claws.

As the ungainly, striped form of Griffin etched itself in his mind's eye—clear as night, even from this great distance—Zephyr wondered whether he would be capable of shouldering responsibility greater than that his parents had ever endured.

It was all approaching fast, and Zephyr kept his mind clear and vigilant, watching everything unfold minute by minute, much in the way Nocturna might watch over her kingdom. He would play his part as best he could, but it was with a leaden heart that he mumbled to himself:

"Beware of metal on wings."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: I promised myself countless times not to get involved in a sequel to Firewing, because it's such a hefty topic to handle. I've seen some other author's on this site handle it rather elegantly, however, and they've inspired me to go ahead and give it a try. I can't make any time comittments; but with the summer approaching, I should be able to devote more time to my writing. Thanks for your great reviews, keep them coming!<em>


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